


Isolation

by LakeWitch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blame Harry, Blow Jobs, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Casual Sex, Characters Watching Doctor Who, Cleaning, Coronavirus, Covid-19 Related, Doctor Who References, Face-Fucking, Is this PWP?, Isolation, M/M, Neighbours, No Drama, One Shot, Pancakes, Quarantine, Self-Isolation, Smut, Technically breaking quarantine rules, Television Watching, Top Harry Potter, Which I neither condone or endorse, it might be PWP, no conflict whatsoever, or maybe it isn't, something light and uncomplicated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:07:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23878141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LakeWitch/pseuds/LakeWitch
Summary: Harry Potter has been in quarantine for about a month. He no longer feels the need to wear trousers, is starved for human contact, and spends most his time binge-watching Doctor Who.His next-door neighbour Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, does not own a television. And is spending all his time cleaning and reading nearly every book he owns.On one sunny afternoon, they happen to run into one another (from over two metres apart), on their balconies.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 35
Kudos: 460





	Isolation

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for:  
> -explicit sex  
> -swearing  
> -drinking one alcoholic drink
> 
> Fic theme songs (because why not): "Motion" by Khalid, "Hurt" by Sasha Sloan

Harry yawned, squinting at the weather report on his mobile. Nice. It’d be 14 degrees and sunny around mid-day. He could have a good long sit on his balcony, enjoy some sun. 

So he climbed out of bed, and began his morning routine. Shower, put on pants, brew the coffee and have breakfast. Today … today he felt like something hot and cheesy. Frozen pizza. Yes, that’d be perfect. 

Once the afternoon rolled around, Harry brought a glass of Firewhisky out onto the balcony and looked out, with his elbows on the railing. He spotted a couple people down below—wearing homemade medical masks and walking over 2 metres apart. Harry sighed. He missed people. When would this end? 

‘Potter.’ 

Oh, that’d be his neighbour, then. Harry turned his head to find a rather wide-eyed Draco Malfoy staring at him from the balcony next door, dressed in a blue button-down tucked into grey trousers. 

‘Hello. How’s quarantine life treating you?’ Harry asked. 

Malfoy just blinked at him, as if he were taken aback by the question, even though it was actually a perfectly normal question (if you ask Harry). Malfoy’s mouth twisted into a small frown. ‘ _Fine_ , thank you. Now why aren’t you wearing any clothes?’ 

‘I _am_ wearing clothes,’ Harry said, turning his body around fully to face Malfoy, and gesturing towards his navy-blue boxer briefs. ‘See?’ 

Malfoy did not look down to where Harry was indicating. Instead, he exhaled slow. ‘Wearing pants hardly counts as being dressed.’ 

Harry shrugged. ‘What’s the point of trousers anymore?’ 

Malfoy stared at him. ‘Right.’ Evidently, he’d decided to drop it. ‘What are you drinking?’ 

Harry looked down at the glass in his hand. ‘Ogden’s Old. Want some?’ 

‘It’s noon.’ 

He shrugged. ‘So? Time is meaningless.’ 

Malfoy huffed a laugh. It seemed to surprise both of them. 

‘I’ll get you a glass,’ Harry said, not waiting for an answer. 

He went back inside, and poured out a couple fingers. When he returned, Malfoy stood in the same spot, eyeing him oddly. 

‘Here,’ Harry said, walking closer to Malfoy’s balcony. 

Malfoy took a quick step back. ‘We’re not supposed to …' 

‘Yeah, yeah. I’ll just set it here then,’ he said, placing the glass on the short brick wall that separated their two balconies, and he stepped back to give them distance. 

Malfoy eyed the glass. 

‘My hands are clean,’ Harry assured. 

‘Right.’ Malfoy picked up the glass, held it up to the sunlight to squint at it, and then, finally, he brought it to his lips. 

Harry smiled, and sipped from his own glass. 

‘Thank you.’ 

‘No problem.’ 

Malfoy sat down on his designer-brand wicker deck chair, and looked out onto the near-deserted London street below them. ‘So what have you been occupying your time with?’ 

Harry followed suit, sinking down into his own somewhat-shabby chair. ‘Oh I don’t know. I’m marathoning Doctor Who. Any season I can get my hands on. Classic Who, even. I like the Fourth Doctor, he’s quite fun.’ 

Malfoy hummed. ‘I don’t know what you’re saying right now.’ 

‘You don’t know Doctor Who?’ Harry asked, aghast. ‘A 900-or-so-year-old alien with a flying blue police box? Goes on adventures in space and time?’ 

Malfoy shot him a raised eyebrow. ‘I’m afraid not.’ 

‘Ah, well … it’s brilliant.’ 

‘I’ll take your word for it.’ 

‘Want to borrow my Ninth Doctor DVDs?’ 

‘No DVD player.’ 

‘Seriously? What are you doing then, streaming? Watching cable television?’ 

‘I don’t have a television.’ 

Harry sucked in a breath, it might’ve been a gasp. ‘What are you doing, then?’ 

Malfoy took a sip of Firewhisky. ‘I have cleaned every surface of my flat. Including behind the refrigerator. Ten times over. And I’ve read nearly every book I own.’ 

‘Damn. That sounds awful.’ 

The corners of Malfoy’s mouth turned up. 

‘Want to clean my apartment?’ 

Malfoy laughed again. ‘That wouldn’t be allowed, now would it?’ 

‘So what? I’ve been cooped up for like a month. I’m not sick. Are you?’ 

A muscle twitched in Malfoy’s jaw. He sighed. ‘No, I’m not sick.’ 

‘So, come over.’ 

‘I … shouldn’t.’ 

‘It’s so messy. You should see the dishes in the sink, or the soap build-up in the shower. It’s all really, really dirty.’ 

Malfoy bit his lip. ‘Is it?’ 

‘Loads dirty.’ 

‘But …' 

‘It’s not like we’re strangers. We’re next-door neighbours. It’s already practically like living together.’ 

‘Not really.’ 

‘Come on, no one will know, and it’ll be good for both of our sanity’s.’ 

‘The neighbours could see. They could phone the Aurors on us.’ 

‘Doubtful. I’m Harry Potter. Saviour of the Wizarding World, and all that. Or have you forgotten?’ He could do no wrong, as far as the general population was concerned. It was sort of annoying. But … sometimes it had its perks. 

Malfoy frowned. ‘No … I haven’t forgotten.’ 

‘So, what’s the harm?’ 

‘The Ministry advises—’ 

‘Ah, sod the Ministry. We’d still be safe. _Not_ spreading the virus out in the world.’ 

Malfoy took a long swig of his Firewhisky. ‘Merlin, Potter. I can’t believe I’m considering …' 

Success! ‘Yes! Consider it!’ 

He bit at his bottom lip. ‘Fine. But … you have to wear clothes.’ 

Harry huffed a laugh. ‘Alright, I’ll get dressed. Right now, then?’ 

‘Yeah, alright. Just let me grab my supplies.’ 

So Harry went in and pulled on a t-shirt and some joggers. He came back to the glass balcony door to find Malfoy carefully climbing over the brick separator, holding a tub of cleaning supplies in one hand—all organised with a handle and everything. 

He opened the door for Malfoy, feeling rather exhilarated at the close proximity of him. It’d been so long since he was within two metres of another human. He stared at Malfoy. He could smell him. He smelled … nice. Like some expensive cologne. (But who bothers to wear cologne during a quarantine?) 

Malfoy looked around his sitting room, at the dirty dishes on the coffee table, the discarded socks on the floor (from when Harry had found his cold feet were suddenly too hot), the headphones, the open DVD cases, and a half-finished crisp bag on the sofa. 

‘See?’ Harry asked. 

Malfoy nodded, and stepped further inside, walking straight across the sitting room to the kitchen. Ah, the empty frozen food boxes, the wrappers, the dishes. The overflow of pasta sauce on the range. The bits of cereal of the counter. Harry hadn’t bothered—he just didn’t care. What’s the point of cleaning, when it’s only for yourself? When it’s only going to get dirty again? 

Malfoy set down his cleaning kit, and went to work moving all the trash to the actual trash bin. 

Harry watched on. Man … it was just so nice to have a houseguest. Oh right—he had a houseguest. ‘Would you like something else to drink? More Firewhisky? Something to eat maybe? Should I put on the wireless? Or … Doctor Who?’ 

Malfoy tossed him a look. ‘I’m quite alright at the moment, thank you.’ He picked up an empty bottle of wine and studied the label. ‘You’re welcome to do whatever you like, of course. Watch your Doctor or whatever.’ 

Harry blinked at him. He wasn’t about to waste this opportunity—this opportunity to be with a human being. ‘That’s okay. I’ll just sit here.’ He sat on the kitchen island barstool. 

Malfoy shrugged without looking at him, and kept working. 

So, Harry hounded Malfoy with a barrage of questions, like, ‘How is your family?’ (Fine), and, ‘What do you most want to do when this is all over?’ (Go back to work), as he watched. 

Malfoy finished tidying the kitchen and went to the sitting room. Harry followed close behind. 

The bathroom was next. Malfoy was really working up a sweat. 

‘Should I help?’ Harry asked. 

‘No,’ Malfoy said, scrubbing the sink. ‘That’d just make this go faster, wouldn’t it?’ 

Harry smiled, but Malfoy couldn’t see it. 

Malfoy kept working until dinner time rolled around. 

‘Hey, I can make us dinner?’ Harry asked. 

Malfoy stared at him—his expression unreadable. ‘I … suppose.’ 

‘Brilliant,’ he said. And he meant it. ‘What do you feel like? Had any cravings lately?’ Harry walked over to the fridge to look inside. He was pretty well-stocked. The grocery delivery came just the other day. 

‘Scotch pancakes,’ Malfoy called from the bathroom. 

‘Sure,’ he called back. 

‘Seriously?!’ 

Harry laughed, and went into the doorway of the bathroom, leaning against the frame. Malfoy stared up at him in disbelief, from where he crouched by the tub. Harry shrugged, smiling. ‘Yeah, I can do Scotch pancakes.’ 

‘You actually have flour?’ 

‘I do,’ Harry said, pleased he could grant Malfoy’s wish. He turned and went back into the kitchen, pulling out the necessary ingredients from the cupboards. ‘Do you want something in them?’ he called out. ‘Chocolate chips? Or … oh, I have frozen blueberries.’ 

‘Marry me.’ 

Harry turned to look over his shoulder, into the open doorway of the bathroom. Malfoy stood there, becoming decidedly pink. 

‘Er, sorry. Chocolate chips please.’ 

Harry grinned. ‘Sure.’ 

So, Harry busied himself with making pancakes for the both of them, as Malfoy did a bit more cleaning. 

Once he had a big stack set on the kitchen island, the syrup and butter out, waters, and two plates and cutlery, Harry called Malfoy over. ‘Dinner’s ready.’ 

‘It’s smells amazing.’ 

Harry could only smile. 

They settled into the stools around the marble-topped kitchen island. 

Malfoy forked three pancakes onto his plate straight away, and smothered them in butter and syrup. 

He took a bite, and looked up at Harry with wide-eyes. He swallowed before saying, ‘These are perfect.’ 

Harry could only grin. They ate happily, chatting here and there. Reminiscing about the few good times at Hogwarts (laughing about Lockhart and Filch). Missing Quidditch. 

After they’d stuffed themselves, Malfoy said, ‘Thank you. This has been …' 

‘Yeah,’ Harry said happily. 

Malfoy stared at him for a beat. ‘I guess I should … go back …' 

Harry shrugged. ‘Or you could, I don’t know, watch something with me. You don’t have a television after all.’ 

Malfoy blinked. ‘Ah … that is true.’ 

He nodded. ‘So it’s decided then. Should I show you Doctor Who? You can see what you’ve been missing? Or is there a certain genre you’d rather, besides science fiction?’ 

Malfoy just blinked at him some more. ‘I have no idea. Yeah, fine, show me your Doctor.’ 

Harry grinned, and they moved into the sitting room, settling onto the couch. Harry put on the Ninth Doctor, from his first episode. That’s always the best place to introduce people to the show, he figured. 

They watched, Harry with a big smile, and Malfoy rather baffled by the whole thing. 

Harry explained, ‘See, that police box is the TARDIS. It allows the Doctor and his companions to travel anywhere in time and space.’ 

‘Right …' 

Harry looked at him. ‘Do you like it so far?’ 

Malfoy looked back. ‘I … think so.’ 

He smiled. ‘Well … thank you. This is so much better with another person.’ 

Malfoy nodded, and looked back at the screen, frowning a little. 

Harry bit his bottom lip, watching Malfoy. 

‘What?’ Malfoy asked without tearing his eyes away from the screen. 

‘Nothing,’ was the automatic answer. Harry went back to watching. 

The second episode started up. 

‘I haven’t …' Harry blurted out. 

‘What?’ 

‘Er, this probably sounds weird, but …’ Harry looked at Malfoy, waiting for a reaction. ‘I haven’t touched anyone in such a long time. Just … touched.’ 

Malfoy’s ears immediately pinkened. 

‘Could I … I don’t know, just put my arm around you or something?’ 

A pause. Malfoy exhaled. ‘Okay.’ 

‘Yeah?’ 

‘Yeah.’ 

Harry scooted closer, and put his arm over Malfoy’s shoulders. Malfoy seemed rather stiff about the whole thing. He just sat straight, and did not lean into Harry in the least. 

But it felt amazing. A warm body next to him—rising and falling with breaths. And Malfoy was a nice size for him—not too tall. He fit nicely under Harry’s arm. It’d be a bit better if Malfoy relaxed into it though. 

Harry tilted his head, leaning it against Malfoy’s, and kept watching. Rose and the Doctor had travelled five billion year into the future. 

Malfoy’s posture slowly eased, he sank back, leaning into Harry. His hand came to rest on Harry’s thigh. 

Harry stared down at it, stared at Malfoy’s hand. 

Maybe he hadn’t thought this through … 

Because without realising it, Harry wanted this to turn into altogether something else. 

Malfoy’s thumb moved. It brushed absently against the fabric of Harry’s joggers. 

Harry turned his face towards Malfoy’s cheek. Malfoy turned a fraction too. 

So close. 

Thick eyelashes and lowered eyelids. Pale skin, a few lone freckles. Breaths sped up. 

Harry kissed his cheek. Just gently, just a quick kiss against a smooth cheek. His heartrate quickened. What was he … doing? Was this okay? 

Malfoy tilted his face closer. Breaths flitted over Harry, and Malfoy smelled of chocolate chip pancakes and syrup. 

Warm, dry lips found Harry’s. 

_Yes_. 

Harry kissed back. God, he hadn’t kissed anyone in ages. He absolutely loved kissing. And Malfoy was good at it. He buried his fingers in Malfoy’s silky hair. 

Their tongues flicked out. Wet. Soft. Warmth. Hot breath. Oh, the taste of him. Sweet and warm. 

Malfoy pulled back with a gasp and wide-eyes. ‘Sorry.’ 

Harry licked his own lips. ‘Do you want to have sex?’ 

Malfoy stared at him. ‘What?’ 

‘Do you want to have sex?’ 

He gave a little shake to his head. ‘I heard what you said …’ His brow furrowed. ‘I didn’t know you like blokes.’ 

‘I do.’ 

‘Oh,’ Malfoy said breathily. Staring at him with those unreadable stormy grey eyes. He blinked once. ‘Yeah, alright.’ 

Harry grinned, and pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it aside. 

‘I’d just tidied,’ Malfoy murmured. 

Harry pounced on him, kissing him again, working to undo each button of his ridiculous outfit. 

Between kisses to Malfoy’s cheek, his chin, the underside of his jaw, Harry asked, ‘Why do you dress up, at a time like this?’ 

Malfoy inhaled sharply. ‘Semblance of normalcy.’ His hands found Harry’s bare torso—mapping its contours, its lines, its scars, his nipples, and his navel with the pads of his fingertips. 

‘Mm,’ Harry acknowledged, sucking a spot underneath Malfoy’s ear. Malfoy’s body arched with a gasp. He undid the last of Malfoy’s buttons, and pushed the shirt off. 

Harry pushed Malfoy over, into a lying position on the sofa. And Harry went down with him—kissing him all the while. 

He lifted up and moved to work on Malfoy’s trousers. His eyes raked over Malfoy’s torso … silvery scars marred the pale chest. Harry froze. 

‘Don’t stop,’ Malfoy gasped, reaching up for him, pulling him down by the forearms into another kiss. 

‘I …' Harry said against Malfoy’s lips. 

‘I know,’ Malfoy murmured. ‘Let’s forget about it. Please.’ 

Harry pulled up a fraction, and looked down into Malfoy’s sincere eyes. ‘Yeah. Yeah, okay.’ He licked his lips. 

‘Take off my trousers.’ 

Harry nodded, and sat up again. Going back to work. Undoing flies, pulling off trousers. Revealing little white briefs with a distinctive bulge. Harry sucked in a breath. 

‘Take yours off.’ 

Harry nodded, still looking at the outline of a cock in those pants. 

‘Now.’ 

Harry smiled. ‘Bossy.’ But he did as he was told. He shimmied out of his joggers and tossed them aside. 

He was still looking at the little white briefs. Harry reached for the waistband, and lifted it up a few inches. A cockhead slipped out. Harry inhaled sharply. He pushed the waistband lower, revealing more length, a thick vein. He pulled the pants all the way down, and worked them off Malfoy’s legs altogether. Short, blond hairs. Bollocks. A hard, dripping cock waiting to be touched. Or tasted. 

He looked up the length of the body before him, meeting Malfoy’s dilated eyes. _Naked Malfoy_. ‘I want to suck you.’ 

Malfoy nodded. ‘So do it.’ 

Didn’t have to tell him twice. He leant down, and took the hard flesh in his hand, pointing it straight up towards his mouth. He licked flat over the tip—lapping up the precome, tasting its slight bitterness. He sucked the head into his mouth. ‘Mm.’ It’d been so, so long. 

Malfoy arched up again, and buried a fist in Harry’s curls—holding on tight. 

Harry swirled his tongue around, feeling him, savouring him. He sucked Malfoy in deeper. Letting the cock graze against the ridges of the roof of his mouth. Merlin … Malfoy’s cock in his mouth … It was amazing. He sucked him deeper, right to the back of his throat. 

‘Harry,’ Malfoy whined out. 

He looked up, and met Malfoy’s eyes—his expression twisted up with pleasure. 

Harry pulled back, back to the tip again. 

Malfoy thrusted up a fraction. He stopped himself. ‘Sorry.’ 

Harry stopped sucking for a moment, to say, ‘You can fuck my face if you want to.’ 

Malfoy bit his lip, and nodded. With a second hand in Harry’s hair, he started thrusting up—slowly at first. Harry relaxed his throat, timed his breathing, as Malfoy simultaneously thrusted up with his hips and pulled Harry’s head down by the hair. 

His movements sped up, he could no longer control himself. 

Harry didn’t mind at all. Actually, it was really fucking hot. 

The sounds Malfoy started to make—moaning and panting and little cries of pleasure. 

Harry watched Malfoy’s face, watched how it twisted, how he bit at his lip, forcing himself to look at Harry, instead of throwing his head back in ecstasy. 

He was so beautiful—coming undone in front of Harry. The act of fucking his face with wild abandon … it just … _fuck_ … was so bloody sexy. 

Harry wanted to fuck him right back, quite badly. He was so turned on. 

‘I’m … going to …’ Malfoy bit out. 

Harry didn’t pull away. 

A loud cry, hot liquid shooting into Harry’s mouth—and Harry swallowing it all down, letting Malfoy ride out his orgasm with Harry’s mouth. 

Malfoy’s chest heaved, as his movements slowed. He looked at Harry, his face relaxed, his expression a bit awed. He released Harry’s hair, and Harry popped off Malfoy’s softening cock. 

‘Fuck,’ Malfoy breathed. 

Harry licked his lips, and smiled. ‘Yeah.’ 

Malfoy just blinked at him for a beat. ‘Do you want to fuck me?’ 

‘Fuck, yes.’ 

He nodded. ‘Take off your pants.’ 

Harry obeyed, shimmying out of the navy-blue boxer briefs. Malfoy bit his lip and stared at his body. 

‘Accio lube,’ Harry called, holding his hand out. A little container flew from Harry’s bedroom into his hand. 

‘Let me,’ Malfoy said. He grabbed the bottle, and poured a generous amount onto one hand. He dropped the lube onto the floor, and rubbed his palms together. Then he reached his right hand out for Harry’s cock, and his left hand for his own arse, lifting his knees up to ease his access. 

It was … the hottest thing. Malfoy circling his own arsehole with long, slick fingers. His other hand gripping onto Harry’s cock, slicking over it, applying heavenly pressure. All while Harry looked down and watched both hands move. 

Malfoy’s finger breached his own arsehole, and he fucked himself on his own finger—stretching himself open. Then, another finger. His thumb brushed over Harry’s tip. It was … a lot to watch. And to feel. Harry had to concentrate very hard on _not_ coming. 

‘Okay,’ Malfoy said, pulling his fingers out of his arse. ‘I’m ready.’ 

Harry didn’t have to be told twice. He leaned over, and positioned his cockhead. Then … he applied pressure. Malfoy’s arse gave way, and he was in … inside Draco Malfoy. He pushed in slowly, allowing time for Malfoy to adjust. Harry watched his face, looking out for discomfort. Malfoy just stared back at him, biting his lip. 

He was fully in. He paused to give Malfoy a moment. 

Malfoy reached up and thumbed gently over Harry’s cheek. Harry blinked. That was … nice … 

‘You can move now.’ 

Harry nodded, and pulled out slowly. Then he thrust in. Fuck, it was amazing. He saw stars. He was one with the cosmos—why hadn’t they had sex before? 

Malfoy wrapped his legs loosely around Harry waist, and Harry thrust faster. 

‘You’re beautiful,’ Harry panted, staring down at his face, trying to memorise him. 

Malfoy looked back at him, with bright eyes. He _was_ —he was bloody beautiful. 

Harry lifted Malfoy up by the hips, changing the angle. 

Malfoy’s hands flitted over Harry’s chest—his face twisted up in pleasure. ‘Oh fuck.’ 

‘Yes,’ Harry panted, thrusting faster. He was ... he was dangerously close. 

Change of position, maybe. Harry pulled out, and flipped Malfoy over onto hands and knees. He lined up again, with that perfect arse. 

Harry gripped tight to Malfoy’s hips, thrusting hard. He leaned over, planting kisses on Malfoy’s spine. A hand found Malfoy’s chest, found pebbled nipples, the sparse invisible hair on a chest, the smooth texture of Malfoy’s scars, the grooves of rib bones, the dip of a navel, a half-hard cock, and bollocks that swung with every thrust. Harry tried to memorise it all. How long had he wanted this? Years? 

“Draco,’ Harry panted. 

‘ _Yes_.’ 

The ecstasy was plateauing. It wouldn’t be much longer. He straightened up, and gripped Malfoy’s hips again, thrusting in. Out. 

‘Please,’ Malfoy whined. 

Harry looked down, and found Malfoy was touching himself with one hand, keeping himself up with the other. 

He thrust faster and harder. 

‘Yes, please, _yes_.’ 

_Beautiful_. 

Malfoy came, _again_ , with a loud cry, sending pulses throughout his body. Harry could _feel_ them. 

Harry came, inside of Malfoy. He was flying—no, he was floating. 

_Beautiful_. 

They collapsed, still connected, in a pile of sweat and limbs and ejaculate. Harry held Malfoy, kissing his shoulder. Malfoy twisted over to face Harry, causing Harry’s softening cock to pop out. 

Harry pushed the strands of sweaty hair out of his face, and he smiled. Probably dreamily. Or goofily. But … he was happy. 

Malfoy just watched his eyes, in a bit of an awe. 

Harry leaned in for a kiss, and Malfoy met his lips. Slow, lazy, soft. Harry found that he very loved kissing Draco Malfoy. His chest felt … fit to burst from it. 

Malfoy pulled away, his expression sobered. He stared up into Harry’s eyes, like he was trying to read something there. ‘I have to ask … was this just because of convenience? Because I’m your neighbour and we’re lonely and bored or whatever?’ He blinked rapidly. ‘It’s okay if it that’s the case. I just … wanted to ask.’ 

Harry furrowed his brow. ‘No, this is because you’re Draco Malfoy, otherwise known as my fit neighbour who is normally too busy to speak to me, but whom I like and find interesting and want to spend time with anyway.’ 

‘I … didn’t realise you wanted to speak with me.’ 

Harry smiled. ‘I do.’ 

‘Ah.’ 

‘We should get cleaned up.’ Harry moved to get off the couch. 

'It's alright, I’ve got it’, Malfoy said, and reached over the side of the sofa to fish around for his wand in his trouser pocket. He waved it over them, and they were clean. He sank back into Harry, leaning his forehead against Harry’s neck. 

This was … lovely. Harry couldn’t think of a better way to spend to self-isolation. So, he said, ‘Well that’s one way to spend quarantine.’ He shut his eyes, and smiled. 

‘And what happens when the quarantine lifts?’ Malfoy asked under his breath, into Harry’s neck. 

Harry opened his eyes. ‘When that happens, I’ll take you on a proper date. We could go to an actual restaurant.’ Merlin, that’d be brilliant. 

‘Yeah?’ 

‘Yeah, of course.’ Harry squeezed Malfoy in tighter, and kissed the top of his head. ‘Will you stay here? Spend quarantine with me?’ 

‘Hmm, I could clean my apartment an eleventh time, read a Potion Ingredient Reference from beginning to end. Or … I could have sex with Harry Potter, and have him make Scotch pancakes for me.’ 

Harry laughed. ‘Yeah, that about covers it. So, will you?’ 

‘Fuck, yes.’ Malfoy traced the outline of Harry’s locket scar with his finger. ‘But I’ll need my things.’ 

‘Can we join our flats, like, I don’t know … create a door?’ 

Malfoy hummed. ‘Yes, yes I think we can.’ He tilted his head to look up at Harry. ‘The deep cleaning begins tomorrow, Potter.’ He was smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ❤️ Stay well friends


End file.
